


The Cost of Living (Yet Homeward We Still Go)

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ben comes back to Charleston, some things are different, much Tom's dismay.  But, as he finds out, there's also plenty that's stayed the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cost of Living (Yet Homeward We Still Go)

“Dad?”  Ben knocks on the door of Tom’s room, hovering in the doorway.

            There’s something in Tom that likes it when Ben looks a little uncertain.  It just reminds him of the little boy that he knew before the invasion happened.  Tom hopes that that innocent boy is still buried somewhere deep inside this rebellion running, hate driven, confused soldier.

“Come in, Ben,” Tom says, setting his book to the side.  He pats the empty space on the bed next to him.  “What can I do for you?”

Ben walks over and kicks off his shoes before sitting down gingerly next to Tom, cross legged and facing him.

“Are you okay?” Tom asks Ben when he sees how uncomfortable he looks sitting down. 

“Yeah, it’s just weird, being back here,” Ben says.

Tom raises an eyebrow.  “Back here?”  They’ve never been to Charleston before.

Ben looks at him sheepishly.  “Around regular humans.  We avoided them whenever we could.”

Tom notes where Ben places himself in that equation and sighs to himself.  “You’re a human, Ben.”

“But not a regular one, Dad,” Ben says.  “I’m a freak.  Razorback.  Spike boy.  If you hadn’t been there when we came to Charleston, they would have shot us all.” 

The easy, simple way that his son talks about the very real possibility of him being slaughtered by his own side breaks Tom somewhere that he hadn’t realized even existed.  Before he can think about it, he sits up and lunges forward to grasp Ben’s shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture.  “They wouldn’t have shot at kids.”

Ben looks at him sadly; suddenly, his son looks older than he does.  “Yeah, they would have, Dad.  Not all of us made it to Charleston.”  He looks down at his hands and Tom’s hand falls, too.  “I had a couple close calls.  They weren’t aiming at the skitters.”

Tom’s stomach clenches.  He can’t believe that he didn’t know about any of this before now.  Ben’s been back for a while now, and somehow he had never mentioned it before.  Hadn’t mentioned humans almost killing him, hadn’t mentioned that he had lost people that he had been at least somewhat in charge of  (Tom isn’t clear on the exact chain of command of the rebels, but he knows that Ben is a leader.). 

Every day that Ben had been gone, Tom had been sure that he would never see him again.  Now, he realizes that he had been right. 

“Dad, you don’t have to look at me like that.  It’s fine.  It happened,” Ben says.  He shrugs.  “But I’m here now.” 

“I’m glad,” Tom says.  It’s as safe a place for Ben and his friends as there’s likely to be.

“Me too,” Ben says, smiling reassuringly at him.  When did they switch places so Ben was the one comforting him?  “I really missed you.  And Matt.  And Hal, too.”

“We all missed you too,” Tom says.  There’s a respectable pause and then he asks, “What did you need, Ben?”

            “Oh, uhm,” Ben looks up at him.  “I was wondering if you had some free time.”

            “I’ve always got time for you,” Tom says. 

            “Okay, cool!” Ben says, perking up.  He jumps up and darts out the door, leaving Tom more than a little confused.  But before Tom can get up to go see where his son went, Ben comes back with a book in hand.  Ben is fiddling with it nervously.  “Yeah, so, I found another copy of _The Deathly Hallows_ laying around here.  We never managed to finish it.”

            Tom laughs and reaches over to his nightstand.  He opens the drawer and pulls out their old copy.  It looks like it’s been through hell- and it has- but it has all the pages.  “I kept it.  Always hoped we’d be able to finish it sometime.” 

            Ben beams at Tom and sets the copy he brought aside.  “You didn’t read ahead, did you?”

            “Of course not, Ben,” Tom says, pretending to be insulted.  When they had been reading one of the other books, Ben had found out that Tom had been reading ahead and hadn’t talked to him for a week.  The biggest and most drastic fight the two of them had ever had.

            “Good, because if you spoil me, I’m going to be mad,” Ben says. 

            “Hey!  I can’t!  I haven’t read any farther than you have.”

            Ben lays down and stretches out, resting his head on Tom’s chest and tossing an arm carelessly over his torso.  Automatically, Tom starts running his fingers through Ben’s hair, so much shorter than the last time they did this, and cracks open the book. 

Tom starts reading the book to Ben.  He’s kind of rusty- he hasn’t been doing much fiction reading lately- but it’s easy to fall back into the familiar rhythm of reading.  Like before, Ben pipes in with a question or a comment every so often and they stop to talk about the book. 

Tom tries to ignore that most of Ben’s comments are critiquing how the characters are running their resistance movements, with an air of authority he shouldn’t have.

Still, it’s nice to be able to do this one small thing with one of his sons.  Unlike during his earlier conversation with Ben, Tom feels like a good father.  Especially when he sees the happy and content smile on his face when Tom says that they’re done for the night. 

“Goodnight, Dad,” Ben says, hugging him.  “And thanks.”

“We can do this again, whenever you want,” Tom promises, hugging back hard.  When Ben is out of sight, he adds, softly, “And thank you, too.”

They’ll be okay, somehow.


End file.
